In the year 2000, a group of friends at the University of Pittsburgh decided to rent a house together. There were eight of them – two aspiring writers, one filmmaker, four thespians and an ROTC mathematician. Their house, located on the edge of Ophelia Street, hadn’t been legally inhabited for eight years, and the promised renovations were still incomplete when the friends started moving in.
The house on Ophelia Street saw several generations of college bohemians. Someone set up a baby-pool on the roof. Someone threw a TV set out a second-story window. Each room was outfitted with its own cable and Internet connection, and each resident had a personal cell-phone (the house was jokingly dubbed “Technophelia”). Screenplays were written here, parties were thrown, college fellowships were exploited to the last penny. Years later, the denizens of Ophelia Street are still friends.
In honor of that exciting, chaotic era, we offer opheliastreet.com, an online magazine that we hope will reflect the energy and curiosity of those formative years.
Our Mission
Our interests are wide-ranging and not a little eccentric. Our mission is to publish essays, fiction, poetry, photography and video that have no other suitable home. After all, your newspaper is full of the latest news. Your favorite blogger will riff on world affairs and funny cat pictures. We want stories that are engaging and enlightening, yet don’t quite fit in anywhere else.
We are based in Pittsburgh, but we like to get around. We love our city and the local flair, but we welcome stories from anywhere in the world and about pretty much anything.
Submissions
We seek nonfiction and fiction, 500-1,500 words, pasted into an e-mail. We may request attachments later on. Poetry can be of any length, although epic verse can get a bit tedious. Please query before sending photographs. Submissions can be submitted by an e-mail to submissions@opheliastreet.com.
Though I never lived there, I thrived there. I spent many opening nights there. Countless Steeler games I watched, while listening to the screaming “Yoys!” of Myran Cope. I slept (or in many cases passed out) there. I watched hats fall in toilets and then be placed back on heads (true story). I drank odd combinations of alcohol (and sometimes Pepto Bismol) there. I saw, heard, (and even felt) many indescribable things there. I cannot help but drive past that street a recall some twisted tale. Glad to hear you are keeping that energy going in all that you do! Best of luck!